Sick Day
by Maid Malcolm
Summary: Mal is sick. La'gaan reluctantly looks after him.


"But why do I have to stay behind and babysit him?" La'gaan grumbled, not entirely under his breath.

"Because Beast Boy and M'Gann are essential to the mission and everyone else has other engagements," Nightwing said crisply. "And Atlanteans should be immune."

"_Should_ be?"

Nightwing shrugged. "It's a 'flu. They mutate like crazy. But you're the best we got for this mission, so go make sure he's okay." He left. Quickly.

La'gaan curse under his breath as he headed to Mal's room. His face was covered in a fine sheen of sweat but underneath it he shivered. The young man looked miserable, squinting up at him through bleary eyes. "La'gaan?" He tried to sit up.

"Rest, Chum." La'gaan pushed him back down with one hand and he sank back into the damp pillows. "You look a mess." Temperature. Humans were warm-blooded, but getting too hot could kill them. La'gaan stuck a thermometer between Mal's lips. He really didn't look good.

Water. Ninety per cent of La'gaan's health problems were a result of dehydration. He went to the kitchen and poured a large glass of fresh water – humans didn't drink salt – and returned. The red fluid in the thermometer was well below the thick black line that Nightwing had drawn on it. That meant he didn't need an ambulance. He propped the big man up on some pillows and brought the cup to his lips, holding his head steady with one big hand. "Drink, you'll feel better."

"La'gaan, I'm not..."

"Drink." La'gaan had taken a crash course in human biology before Aquaman had taken him to the surface. He knew that getting too much water in Mal's lungs could kill him. So he was careful not to lift the glass too quickly and give Mal a chance to swallow. He stopped drinking after about half a glass.

La'gaan had seen sickness before. He'd seen Atlantean children develop twitches and rashes when they caught childhood viruses. Once he'd known a guy who had had feelers amputated from his face after he contracted an incurable fungus. But lung infections were new. He'd never seen somebody shiver and wheeze and cough weakly, trying to breathe while their body tried to heat and cool itself at the same time. He untangled one of Mal's blankets from the nest his tossing and turning had created and laid it neatly over him. "I'll come check on you later. Try to hold it together until then, Chum."

Soup made sense to La'gaan. It was like water that was also food. He was surprised that humans, spending all their time in the dry air, didn't eat it more often.

But sick humans, apparently, did, and tomato was Mal's favourite, although La'gaan couldn't remember where he'd learned that. He squinted into the pot through the billowing steam. Steam meant hot enough, right? M'Gann's food always steamed and it was delicious. La'gaan brought the spoon to his lips, then immediately dropped it with a cry.

Too hot! He dashed to the sink, filled it with cold water and dunked his face in. He could already feel his stinging lips swelling. Great. The soup tasted awful too, but he didn't know if that was his fault or just what tomato soup tasted like.

A few minutes later he came out of the water and stirred some cold water into the soup. He made sure it was skin temperature before taking it to Mal.

"Eat, you clownfish," La'gaan muttered, trying to push a spoon between Mal's lips. Mal brushed it away weakly.

"Karen?"

"No, not Karen. Do I really have to drag your girlfriend in here to flirt until you eat?"

"Why isn't..."

"Because she's busy and you're contagious. Now eat the nipping soup if you want to get better." He pushed the spoon between Mal's lips again, and he swallowed.

Mal's fever went down over the next hour and he became more lucid. La'gaan radioed Nightwing to ask when the others would be back.

"Not for hours, Lagoon Boy. Is there an emergency?"

"No... but I could be much more useful in the field."

"You have your mission."

La'gaan made sure he hung up before he started cursing.

"You alright?" Mal was standing in the doorway, hastily-donned tartan dressing gown hanging open to reveal pale blue cotton pajama bottoms. He looked ridiculous. But he wasn't shivering.

"Go to bed."

"I'm fine."

"I'm in command here. Go to bed. That's an order."

Mal shrugged. "I just came out to get a glass of water anyway." He padded towards the sink, but didn't make it halfway before La'gaan pressed a full glass into his hands. "Jesus Christ, La'gaan, I'm fine. The worst is over."

"You know you have an enemy living inside your lungs, right?"

Mal rolled his eyes. "Humans aren't quite as frail as we look." But he headed back to bed. La'gaan wanted to make sure he stayed there, so he brought in a pack of cards.

An hour later and into their fourteenth round of Go Fish, Nightwing called to say that the mission had run into unexpected overtime. Everyone was fine, it was a minor setback.

"Wouldn't have happened if I could do my job right now," Mal muttered.

"You just concentrate on whether you have any threes," La'gaan replied. "Anyway, your girl's not on the mission. She could be home any minute."

Mal shook his head. "She'll be at the lab."

"But you're sick!"

"And she can't afford to catch it. It'll set her back too much in her work if she has to stay home. She knows I'll be fine. Her job is important." His tone was calm and reasonable. La'gaan wondered how long he'd practised that. "Your girl will get back before mine does."

"Yeah, once she gets bored beating up Intergang goons with Superboy," he muttered.

"It's just a mission."

"I know!" La'gaan took a deep, steadying breath. "Do you have any threes or not?"

By the time Alpha Squad got back, Mal had stopped coughing entirely. They'd long gotten bored with the deck of cards and relocated to the lounge room. La'gaan had reasoned that a couch was kind of like a bed, even if you were playing video games.

"How are things going?" M'Gann asked as she put her hands on La'gaan's shoulders and gave him a kiss. He winced at the pressure on his burned lips, but kissed back.

"Fine, Angelfish. He's looking better."

Conner rushed over to Mal and laid a hand on his forehead. "You should rest a couple more days," he advised, "and then..." He was interrupted by La'gaan's throaty cough.

As one, Alpha Squad stared at La'gaan for half a second before stepping smartly back.

"What?" La'gaan said defensively. "I choked on something."

"That wasn't choking," Conner said.

"Oh, like you would know." He coughed again. "But I'm supposed to be immune!"

"Probably immune," M'Gann corrected gently. "It's the 'flu, we can never be totally sure anyone will be immune."

"We know _I_ am, now," Mal said, standing. "La'gaan, bed."

"But – "

"Now." A smile played on his lips. "That's an order."


End file.
